


In the End

by blindwriter



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Suspense, Tissue Warning, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindwriter/pseuds/blindwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Snake managed to find Pandora, its power unleashed a terrifying chaos on the world. Outside of his scope of understanding, Conan struggles, and Kid bites through guilt. Haibara hides, Akako watches, people die, and the world needs saving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the End

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Halloween 2011. So it’s that time of year. What better than to write a creepy fic? Totally not my forte, but hey. Enjoy it while you munch on your candy, kiddos.
> 
> Theme song is “Trepidation” from the soundtrack for 999. I dare you to have that OST on repeat as you read this. At night. With the lights off. I DARE YOU. [Better yet, just play the friggin' game, because it'll rock your socks off.]
> 
> Try as I might, I couldn't break this into chapters - or even segments. Sorry for the long, dense read, folks.

Conan grimaced, heart hammering in his chest. His shoe, the laces, the damned sole was - his eyes flickered up to gauge his surroundings - still stuck. He glanced back down, struggling with the thing, yanking, and yanking, trying to quickly - and quietly - free it from the gap between the steel beams. He had to be quick, he had to be careful, because if he twisted his ankle now, there would no longer be a way for him to run. And running was life.

 _Real_ life. The kind where the heart beat, and the chest heaved with breath.

He could hear Ayumi’s whispered and frantic pleas for him to _hurry, hurry, they’re coming--!_ He knew that already! He was closer after all, and the racket the beams made when Conan forced them to fall to the ground would surely draw a crowd. Not only could he hear the twitching, he could see it, and it was steadily increasing the panic curling in his belly. Soon they would be coming after him again, and he had to go, get out, away, but his damned shoe was _still stuck -_

One more vicious tug, and he nearly stumbled right off the pile of scrap metal. His hand shot out, catching his weight, and he curled a bit when it slid across the metal due to the slickness there. A long, red smear was left in its wake, and Conan had to choke back his gag reflex. It was still _warm_. A knee rammed into a corner when he slipped even further, and he hissed through his teeth. That would leave a mark; it fucking _hurt_.

But he was alive, still breathing, still real. Wild eyes scanned around him again, as he was near deaf from the blood rushing in his ears. Pink flickered in his peripheral, so he scampered towards it, ignoring the twinge of his leg, and knowing that Ayumi needed him there to quiet her down lest she draw even more attention. His legs were so short, and it cut into their escape mercilessly. Had he been older - his normal age - he could have propped her on his back, piggyback style, and run for all he was worth. She was light, and they were alone -

Conan grimaced again, silencing the thoughts before they could bubble to the surface, the faintest of red-tinged memories flashing by before he grimly focused on the girl. They needed to run.

Her eyes were shiny, more than normal, hinting at the tears she refused to shed. He was proud of her, really. He took the Detective Boys under his wing, helped train them, hoped to prepare them to become admirable detectives who would not flinch from a crime scene that demanded the hand of justice. But this - no one should ever need to be prepared for this. She was resilient, her bottom lip pursed and face taut. It was too early for this kind of trauma. Corpses were one thing. Violence and death were another. _This_ horror was entirely unreal, and he wasn’t completely sure even _he_ was really taking things well. Well, as well as someone in their predicament could, anyway.

Somehow, he mourned the loss of his childhood, and his dour lack of interest in films or fiction - ha! fiction - which might have given him at least an iota of an edge. He briefly wondered where his father was. If he still _was_. Halfway across the world, secluded, hiding from his editors - maybe he was fine. His parents were likely alright, but it still did not help him here. Or Ayumi, who was still staring wide-eyed at him with baited breath and trembling fingers.

Gods, he had to get a grip. Daydreaming could wait until _later_.

“Come on,” he murmured. His voice sounded too loud to him, and he couldn’t help gritting his teeth, and sending glances back behind them. Already, he could hear the scuffling, the off kilter keening, the scrape of tarps in the wind, and the screeching of metal. Fires crackled in the distant darkness, but the rest was an unnatural stillness. The world was on pause, holding its breath, hiding inside itself. Animals disappeared a long time ago at the first whiff of _wrongness_. As for the people left, they probably already fled into hiding. The rest -

Hadn’t he already decided he wouldn’t think about it?

His hand reached out, only to pause mid-motion. Moving it back to his side, he scrubbed the blood onto his shorts vigorously enough to make his palm hurt, but he did not want to let Ayumi get dirty. The effort was only partially successful, but it had to suffice. Taking her hand, he squeezed a bit, then turned to tug her along. She squeezed back, but knew to be quiet. Obediently, she trailed behind him, even if the vice-like grip promised bruises later on. Honestly, he didn’t know who was holding on tighter. “We’re still being followed. They don’t seem that smart. It’ll take longer, but I don’t want to chance it. We’ll have to go the roundabout way.” He glanced over his shoulder at her, just enough to see her jerkily nod her head. Good.

 _They_ weren’t that smart. Nor were they stealthy. Just persistent. _They_. The word, which used to have such a heavy and oppressive weight, now held an entirely different meaning. Funny how much could change in so little time. Just a couple of hours ago, he was pleasantly wondering what would be for dinner-- Conan gritted his teeth, and swung his head to clear it. Eyes darting back and forth, he tugged on Ayumi’s hand and jogged forward. If there was one good thing about being child sized, it was that he could slip through nooks and crannies too small for their pursuers, and so he took advantage of that. The construction yard was so haphazard, and full of normal safety concerns, but that was something useful for him now. He felt nauseated to think that way.

It took another hour of slinking around the perimeter of the yard, and bolting through several alleyways, until Conan and Ayumi finally found themselves across the street from the towering Medical Experimental Research Building located on the main campus of Touto University. His legs burned, and a furtive appraisal of Ayumi showed she was no better than he was. He was used to running, being a regular soccer player, but he knew that if his feet were throbbing, hers had to positively ache. Tilting his head up at the tall, dark building was a small relief, though.

He crouched, silently urging Ayumi to do the same. Somewhere in the main district, he’d managed to elude the ones following them, but that wasn’t to say there weren’t any late stragglers hanging around. Aside from the first batch they’d encountered, it just felt odd and strange they hadn’t come across any others on their way. Then again, most people should have been at home, or on the way when things turned hellish. There shouldn’t be anyone else there. Conan breathed as shallow as he could, ears tuned to listen for the faintest of noises. Ayumi stilled next to him, and he focused. It was quiet. An oppressive, choking kind of nothing. More like a complete lack of noise. It unnerved him, but things were topsy-turvy that evening, so it had to be a good thing.

Lifting up from his crouch, he darted between cars, finally pressing one hand against the door. His breath caught in his throat as he pushed it open, still wary and desperately listening for anything. Already, his chest was beginning to ache from inadequate oxygen, but he refused to ruin the silence with gasping breaths. That would just be giving away their position, should there be unwelcome guests. When nothing scraped against the floor or wailed in the blackness, he pulled Ayumi inside, and held the door so it would not slam shut.

It was eerie. Though he was trying his best, their steps still echoed and bounced off the walls of the foyer. He kept his back to the wall as much as possible, and finally - _finally_ \- found the stairwell door. What was it Haibara had said? Which floor was it? Exercising the same caution as before, he eased through that door, and strained his eyes against the inky shadows. His glasses might have helped him see with the night vision function, but here, inside, his ears would be better. The air was still, so he turned to Ayumi, holding a finger over his lips to tell her to stay silent.

Making their way up the stairs felt like some form of torture. They were both extremely tired as it was, so it took a while of slow and measured steps until they reached the correct floor. Swallowing a thick lump, his fingers shuffled through his pockets, digging out the small Detective Boys badge. Turning it on, he tapped out a number of clicks straight onto the microphone, then leaned against the wall to wait. About two minutes later, he tensed to the sound of shuffling behind the landing’s door. He winced as he heard a distinct scraping, and gripped Ayumi’s hand, making ready to run should he need to. Edging back to the edge of the stairs, he stared at the door.

Stillness returned, and a soft click registered. After that, the door cracked open. First one centimeter, then an inch, obviously hesitant. Then he heard it. Breathing. Shallow, but shivering, and Conan let out a soft, self-deprecating kind of snort that felt more like an inappropriate giggle than anything. He stepped forward, eyes glued to that tiny crack. “Hakase,” he whispered. And then that crack gaped open, revealing the pale-faced professor, whose eyes probably looked just as spooked as his did.

Conan glanced back to Ayumi, and squeezed her hand, pulling her forward. Slipping through the doorway, he turned to watch as Hakase locked the door again. He could see the heavy-looking desk that was used to further barricade it off to the side. Belatedly, he realized he was still holding onto Ayumi’s hand, so he let go and closed his eyes to release a relieved sigh. Ayumi jumped forward, hugging Hakase’s leg, and from his vantage, he could see her shoulders shaking. Hakase patted her head, sending a tense, questioning glance his way. Conan winced again, looked away, and shook his head, refusing to look back at him. Ayumi was the only one. The rest were --

He heard Hakase suck in a soft breath, then sigh it back out. A lot was communicated in that wisp of air. _Shock, lingering disbelief, sadness, hurt, despair, loss of hope_. Conan thought he might have heard something accusatory or perhaps disappointment there too, but it might have been his imagination. Soon everything else was drowned out by Ayumi’s quiet sobbing. “Come on, Ayumi-chan, let’s get some rest. Ai-kun will be happy to see you, I’m sure.”

She turned wet eyes on him, still clutching at Hakase’s pants. Between hiccups and rasps, she pleaded. “Conan-kun, you have to go back for Mitsuhiko-kun, you _have to_. He could still be okay. He’s a fast runner. Right?” He avoided her gaze as well, staring down the dark hallway. Faint traces of moonlight made their way in through the windows. It was smart to leave all the lights off. No one could tell from outside that there was anyone inside. Probably Haibara’s idea. He questioned it before, but right now he was grateful for her paranoia.

“I’m sorry, Ayumi-chan. You saw Genta, he was… And Mitsuhiko… he did the right thing.” If he hadn’t respected him before, he certainly did now. His chest hurt. It was too late. Mitsuhiko had leapt forward despite Conan’s frantic protest and fended Genta off, because Genta was already -- A choking sob tore through his thoughts, so he turned even further away from her. There was no way he was still “okay”. Conan felt like a complete failure. He was supposed to protect them _all_ , damn it.

Hakase murmured something soft at her, and the shuffling noise told him they were moving further into the center of the building, surely to where Haibara had taken shelter. A lot was riding on her shoulders right then. He really hoped she was more successful than he had been. Not much else was left for him at that point, so instead of following them, he spoke over his shoulder at the retreating pair. “I’m going to watch out the windows.”

“Be careful, Shi--, er, Conan-kun.” His lips twitched at that minor slip, and he hunched his shoulders, jamming his fists into his pockets and stalking forward. That didn’t even require a response.

Stepping closer to the glass, he peered out; first to the immediate area near the ground floor, then up and further away. It wasn’t a bad place, all things considered. It was necessary, but it was also tactically sound. High, with a good view, out of the way, equipped and stocked. The longer they stayed however, the more dangerous it would become. Whatever this was, he doubted staying holed up in one spot was very smart. He looked back in the direction Hakase and Ayumi disappeared to. Haibara needed this, though. So that meant they were staying. Maybe morning would be better. Maybe it was just a short-term problem. Maybe…

It was hard to have anything even resembling optimism, actually. Especially… especially now.

Conan looked back at the glittering lights outside. It was mostly dark, but glowing halos of light from flame and smoke could be seen in patches here and there in the distance. There was nothing but chaos out there. Fires were the least of their problems. Due to abandoned work stations that monitored and adjusted for problems, many of the cell phone signals cut off a long time ago. He imagined that soon, electricity would also lose any semblance of reliability. The transit stations were already shut down. It was somewhat a miracle the badges still worked, considering they tapped into the communications systems, though that was expected to become ineffectual, too.

He fingered the badge in his pocket idly. It took several long moments before he finally raised shaky fingers to the switch on his glasses. He could always check, right? Just to make sure. No harm in that. His pupils hurt when it turned on, struggling to focus in the low light. But there it was, the red dot. Blinking slowly, like a heavy reminder that yes, the badge was still _there_. He had to close his eyes, and shut it off when it became clear. No movement. He chuckled darkly. Well, at least he was fairly certain, if he hadn’t already been.

What a terrible day.

And now it was worse, because now that he was still, without a goal in mind, he was finding it even harder to remain distracted. He was completely outside his element, now. There had to be something he could do, something to keep him busy, something useful. Something that didn’t require him to think. Ironic, considering that was his greatest strength. It was his greatest weakness, at the moment.

The tremors were there, just underneath. They were there, and he wanted rid of them, but that meant acknowledging them, dissecting them, _thinking about_ them and their origin, and that was something he could not - _would not_ \- do. His gasping came up in shorter puffs, and he knew that doing much more of that and he would wind up hyperventilating. He wasn’t like that. Kudou Shin’ichi, famous detective, used to the face of death wasn’t like that. So why was this so hard? He stared blankly at the mild tremble of his fingers and the flecks of red crusted under his fingernails, before fisting them, and feeling the jolt of over-stimulated muscles spasm in his arms. It had to go away sometime.

_When?_

He shouldn’t think about it. When he thought, he could nearly _feel_ his seams coming undone. He couldn’t have that. Not now, not just yet. Ayumi needed him to hold together. Haibara did, and so did Hakase. It was pressure. That’s all. He could handle pressure. Nothing new. He held his breath for a moment, and slowly let it seep through his teeth. Yea, nothing new. His forehead rested against the glass.

Movement caught his eye, so he leaned back, brow furrowing. There, again, a flash of something. His brow furrowed even further, and he leaned one hand against the glass as he squinted. He sucked in a hissing breath as it passed by once more, appearing and disappearing in the gaps between buildings. No mistake about it, he knew that shape. It _had to_ be. Eyes traced a trajectory to the right, then he turned and ran back to the door leading to the stairwell. He startled Hakase, who was just coming back to check on him.

“Shin’ichi?” He blinked at Conan, surprise evident on his face. Conan stretched on his toes, straining for the lock.

“I’ll be right back, I have to go check on something.”

“You can’t go - it’s too dangerous!”

He glowered over his shoulder, daring Hakase to challenge his intentions again. Even more surprised at his fierce response, Hakase paused where he stood. “I saw someone, and I have to go check.” A wavering doubt still lingered in his eyes, so he pressed the point. “ _Hakase_. I have to go check. They might - they probably need my help.” And perhaps Conan was still feeling intensely guilty about being unable to protect Mitsuhiko, though that still didn’t refute his reasoning.

Hakase looked truly pained at that. “Shin’ichi…”

“I’ll be back.” And he returned his attention to the lock. It clicked open, and he slipped through the door before anything else could be said.

His way down the stairs was more noisy than his way up, but for the sake of those above, he still tried to tread lightly. It wasn’t until he made it outside did he finally increase his pace to a flat run. His feet protested the abuse, having been subjected to more running in the past few hours than he was used to, but he pressed on, anyway. Blisters could be dealt with later. For now, he had to move quickly.

Sticking to deeper shadows and the spaces behind cars and bushes, he swerved through the campus, eyes half-trained on the sky, half on where he was going. It was too quiet. He suppressed the cold shiver that wanted to slither up his spine. Right then, he should have been hearing the white hum of cars, the buzzing of insects, the sounds of a million voices commingling and charging the very air, but aside from distant hollers and the occasional scream, there was nothing. Tokyo felt leeched of life.

Conan stopped at a corner, panting. His ribs were reminding him of a very nasty stitch forming since earlier, though he was resolutely ignoring it. He licked chapped lips and scanned the skies. This was about the right area, he thought. Nothing was grabbing his attention though, which was disheartening. Only a little. Chances were high he’d already touched down someplace, and just within the past few minutes. He couldn’t have gotten very far, in so little time. Conan could call out, but… His head swiveled, taking in the area. Not a good idea. Well, he’d never been easy to track to begin with.

Heart in his throat, he continued forward. Almost immediately, he regretted it. Distinctly coppery and metallic, sharp and invading, the smell assaulted him. His feet faltered a bit, and he lowered himself to a crouching kind of prowl. Normally he wouldn’t have given it much thought, aside from alerting him to yet another crime that needed solving, but nothing was normal anymore. Instead, glaring bright flags started waving insistently in his brain. _Warning, danger, warning, danger._

When he peered around a parked car, he found the source of the stench, sprawled across the concrete in a gruesome, disjointed smear. More than one, too, resulting in several large, red pools. Pieces lay around, some smashed and unrecognizable. Soft tissue spilled over and around each other, the dark strings of intestines of one stretched out to nearly the length of a car. Sections were crushed and pulverized, ground neatly into the asphalt. It wasn’t a person, or even people - it was a mass collection of _parts_. No wonder it was so overpowering.

An abandoned truck sat to the side, driver door gaping wide open, but the sloppy handprints there and the lopsided, dark mat of hair peeking from behind a tire told him everything he needed to know. His lip curled in an involuntary revulsion, and he felt the familiar roiling in his gut. Familiar, too familiar, too close to - No, that would do him no good. Nor was this a crime. Nothing of the sort. It was hell.

He used to like red. He wasn’t so sure of that anymore. Everything was surreal at that point. Red. Red. The lucky color. Color of life and celebration. Color of blood and death. His eyebrows drew down. No, that was white. Corpse white, and stark. But Kid was white, and full of life. White, red - the meanings were all getting mixed up. _Everything_ was so messed up. It hurt his chest in a vague, all-encompassing way, and he rubbed at it absently. He was sure if he thought about it, he would know exactly what it stemmed from, but he refused to do that. Rubbing only managed to ease the discomfort marginally. Instead, urgency was coming to the fore. His need to find Kid was becoming more pressing. Where was he?

Wrenching his eyes away, he scanned the area ahead. He caught a flicker of red in the corner of his eye, and reflexively whipped his head around to face it. It flittered in the distance, as if beckoning him. Just as the flicker of white in the sky had done before he lost sight of it. Just like Kid. It felt like Kid.

So, he followed it.

Conan had a strange, otherworldly feeling as he chased after the bobbing flash of crimson. Somehow, it brought to mind all the pursuits of Kid he had in the past, constantly on his toes, and trying to outwit the thief. It was odd, because the thing in front of him was certainly not Kid. It bounced and fluttered, shimmering in shadow where there was no light. He got the impression of a butterfly who had gorged itself on so much blood that its wings got soaked. Dichotomous was an understatement.

He took passive note of where they were going, and was a bit surprised that it was a winding path, sticking close and low to the shadows and hidden areas he normally would have taken anyway.

Smart butterfly. He would have been disconcerted, if he wasn’t busy looking over his shoulder every two seconds, and scanning the area with open eyes and straining to listen above his footfalls. Not that much else could freak him out that night.

His chase came to an abrupt halt when it popped out of sight around a corner, and he came up short. Lowering into a cautious squat, he let his eyes move around, trying to find where it disappeared to. That was when he heard a scuffling noise, and immediately, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Alright, so perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to go running after the first sign of life he had seen in a while. The sound echoed again, so Conan stretched his neck out, squinting against the darkness.

His eyes widened momentarily at the sight of white fabric quietly settling against a white leg. Before he knew what he was doing, he ran forward, skidding to a stop a short distance away. It drew Kid’s attention, who jerked his head over at the noise. The silver gleamed off his swinging monocle charm in the moonlight, and with a clenched jaw, he took quick inventory of Kid’s features.

Pale faced, wound up and tense shoulders, weight just slightly shifted to the balls of his feet, gloved hands fisted way too tight, and lips parted for silent breath. But it was the half-haunted, half-wild look in his eyes that let Conan know that this was Kid. _Really_ Kid. He found himself finally breathing in, not having noticed he was holding it. Intense relief flooded over him, and he was irrationally happy at that moment, because another sliver of his life - real life, normal life - was standing just in front of him. The nightmare temporarily faded into the background, and he felt the giddy jolt in his belly he always did when facing off against Kid.

“Kid!” The name rang out like some kind of beacon, and Conan regretted speaking even before the sound died in his throat. A card gun was pointed straight at him in that same half-second, and if Conan weren’t already stopped before, that alone would have made him pause. Spikes of panic made his heart thud loudly against his ribs, because he then realized something very simple.

Kid was a thief. A really, _really_ good thief. And as a really, really good thief, he knew how to walk without so much as the faintest whisper of a noise. So the shuffling he heard earlier could not possibly have been Kid’s doing.

After that, the world was shoved into fast-forward, and many things happened at once. Conan flinched violently when a loud keening pierced the heavy silence, and he had to take a step back to keep from falling over. His feet stayed glued to the ground, and that trembling from before that he was so valiantly shoving under the surface threatened to shake his fingers right off. Stunned blue eyes stared at Kid for a second of abject horror, unease building to tsunami heights in the void of his subconscious. Blankness. He had to focus on nothingness. If not, if he didn’t concentrate, if he _thought_ and drew conclusions, if he connected the familiar dots, then that nameless thing would come into focus, and he couldn’t have that. Not then, it wasn’t safe. He knew Kid was probably telling him to run, but -

His breath whooshed out of him as he felt Kid roughly pull him off the ground without preamble, and began to run. Conan blinked, suddenly aware of the ground as it passed by. A click by his head, and he glanced up just in time to see the glint of Kid’s card gun swing around. One card cut the air with a whistle, and Conan had to blink again. Those cards were definitely not normal. They had to be metallic, of some kind. His eyes followed the path, and heard another two shots whizzing by.

Keening gave way in part to gurgling. Conan flinched again, watching as one card deeply embedded itself into the man’s - _thing’s_ \- neck. Red dripped down, soaking the collar of his shirt. The other glanced off a cheek, effectively razing off a solid section of skin. It hung in a limp sliver, holding on by a few scraps of muscle and flesh. Another shot, and it flew a bit haphazardly into lips and teeth and cheek with a sickening, slick thunk. The shriek forced out another shudder, and the wheeze after that might have been his, or might have been Kid’s.

_Shut up, shut up, you’re too loud._

Any more of that, and they would have droves to deal with. Really, the only reason he was even able to so objectively watch the entire exchange was because he didn’t have to concern himself with running. This was a problem, namely because it slowed Kid down. He wasn’t heavy, but he knew how persistent _They_ could be.

“Gun. Give me the gun,” he demanded with a hand out. Kid complied after a few steps, shifted Conan in his arms, then picked up his pace. His back protested the strange way he had to twist to aim, but he ignored it. The first shot missed completely due to a complete unfamiliarity with the odd contraption, and by the fact he was being jostled with each step. The next shot was certainly better, and he took on a clinical kind of calm he often employed at the shooting ranges back in Hawaii. Because that’s all it was; target shooting. Aim and shoot, aim and shoot.

The sound quickly cut off when he hit bull’s eye, which solved one problem. Target adjustment, and he hit bull’s eye again when it became blind. Target adjustment, and he aimed for the only accurate sense left - hearing. Bull’s eye. Target adjustment - The gun was yanked from his fingers, causing him to start in surprise. His hands felt empty. He needed something there to prevent the trembling. Looking up, he saw Kid’s face drawn into a pinched kind of resolve, though his eyes were looking forward.

Conan tolerated the ride, until they finally slipped into a small, darkened building, tugging at Kid’s jacket to let him know he could walk from there. They did not stop until they made their way up to the top floor, checking each one as they went. He wasn’t expecting to find anyone, considering Kid chose this particular building, but better safe than sorry. They could have checked the roof as well, but both just settled in an office, catty-corner from a front-facing window that let in meager shafts of light. Tokyo was way too dark that night, it wasn’t normal.

Kid turned blank eyes on him, and he returned the look equally. He broke the contact first, moving his attention to the view outside the window. “What were you doing out there?”

A slide of fabric indicated a shrug. “It was a hospital. I was hoping… I wanted to see if perhaps… I have been checking several in the last few hours in search of people.” Conan allowed his shoulders to relax at that.

“Ah.” Another long silence. “I saw you passing by, so thought I’d check. See what you were up to. You know. Check if you were fine.” He licked his lips absently. “Needed help. Or something.” _Make sure you were you_. It went unsaid, but he knew Kid understood his meaning.

“These are hardly normal circumstances, Tantei-kun. I am glad to see you, though.” He glanced over, only to see Kid was also looking outside. His cheeks looked hollow in the shadows. Any other time, and he would have thought he was ill. The glint of his eyes were nearly nonexistent.

“Have you? Found anyone.” Kid’s shoulders went rigid.

“I’ve been looking for _certain_ people.” He looked down, then shifted his gaze over to Conan. “I may be worrying over nothing. As my companions and collaborators, they are nearly as skilled as I am.”

Conan pursed his lips for a moment. “Relatives?”

“That is correct.”

“Friends?”

The pause this time was very heavy, and cloying. “Some.” And that said a lot more than Kid probably wanted. Some meant not all. Which meant there were those either afflicted or victimized. “And you, Tantei-kun?”

“Relatives should be alright; they’re out of the country. The kids - the Detective Boys…” Conan licked his lips again and rasped out the words. “Some.” Kid said nothing to that, so it was a while before he continued, willing away the memories before they could register as more than that red blip on the tracking system of his glasses. Shifting on his feet, he considered how to extend his offer. “Hakase and Haibara - we found a place. At a lab. She doesn’t look it, but Haibara is very good at science. I don’t know if you have a place, but it’s relatively safe there, for now.”

“Where is your keeper?”

Conan swallowed, an overpowering sense of unease wrangling his voice into a feeble mumble. He fumbled with the mental image of Hakase in his brain, but it felt slippery, like he couldn’t focus for some reason. Tired? Yes. Stressed? Yes. The pressure was getting to be suffocating. He was needed to be strong and confident, firm and decisive, so this one, simple question felt wrong. Like it was dangerous. “Keeper?”

_Don’t._

Kid’s eyes widened the slightest, then narrowed. It wasn’t a glare. It wasn’t his normal piercing gaze or taunting twinkle. It was cautious, and just shy of trepidation. His eyes should never be that expressive. Ever.

_Don’t say it._

His lips parted, paused, then continued. “Your keeper. Mouri Ran.”

It felt like a physical blow. As it was, Conan staggered. Or he thought he did. It felt like it. _Ran_. A million red-tinted memories popped out at him; the name an involuntary reminder. Backlogged thoughts spilled over, and suddenly he felt like he was drowning. Vaguely, he noted a choking sound, and even more vaguely noted that it was coming from his own throat. He shuddered, that thinly concealed tremble he had been struggling with all evening coming to a head. It had a _name_ now.

“Ran? R-ran.”

He recognized panic stirring inside. Panic-fear-terror-pain. _Breathe_.

“She’s -”

Another staggering sway, but he felt steely fingers wrapped around his arms. He nearly flailed. Constricting, so constricting. He raked at the collar of his own shirt, just struggling to continue taking in air. It made him even more lightheaded. Consequence could be a damning thing.

 _Ran_. That’s right. His keeper - friend, precious person - where was she? Not here. Not here, because -

“Ran is -”

He stopped her. He _ended_ her. He had to. The stun dart did nothing; he kicked, and he fought, but she was strong and fast - brilliant, as always - but he was just a kid, and he had to throw things, and kick them, sharp and insistent, and she wouldn’t give up, even with gaping wounds drowning her in red -- He lost sight of _Ran_ then, because she was no longer _there_ , and so he clung to the last thought left in his head - buzzing, white, and full of static - and struck out with what he could, because it was just so _unnatural_ that it couldn’t _possibly_ be real.

 _Survive, survive, survive_. It was a heavy weight that came down, again, again, and again. He had no choice, but she - she would recover, right? She had to. What other reason did he have left? His existence, his secrecy, his whole reason.

_Washed away in a swath of red._

He hated clarity. A crushed skull, no one recovered from that. Even if she was still squirming when he fled, broken fingers clawing across the floor towards him, and teeth gnashing and clacking despite it all, no living person survived that. If it disabled the undead, it obliterated the living. She wouldn’t be returning to him. This was a soul-consuming sorrow.

His sense of self only returned, because he was spilling half his guts across the floor in acrid puddles. The smell and taste of his bile echoed against the back of his nose, and dry heaving was nowhere near as satisfying. Conan wished he could retch even more, but he couldn’t breathe like that. The best he could manage was gasping sobs.

It hurt. It physically ached in his chest. A violent, relentless kind of pain prickled in his lungs, his stomach and nose burned, and his eyes throbbed. It didn’t help that he was wrapped in a crushing hug, Kid’s arms around him in a strong, uncompromising grip. They crumpled together, down into an awkward tangle on the floor. Kid was shaking, too. That was odd. In an airy, incomprehensible kind of way that just barely registered. But it was solid, and it was there, so he took it, and held on to keep himself grounded in reality.

It took him three tries, before he was able to spit out something resembling words. “Gone.” And that was all he was going to say about that.

Kid pulled away, but didn’t let go just yet. His hat was gone, knocked somewhere off to the side, and probably filthy by then. He stared at Conan, face nearly unrecognizable. Deep circles hung under his eyes, and his face was pale. Distantly, Conan recognized that it was probably his real face, considering the very authentic signs of emotional and physical exhaustion, but couldn’t bring himself to care. After some time, Kid finally just nodded and dropped his arms to his side. Neither moved, however. Safety in numbers. Or something.

Conan dropped his gaze down to his hands, which had somehow miraculously stopped shaking. He felt like he’d been run over by a truck, and dragged through fifty years worth of intensive training inside of the last ten minutes. Actually, he wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been there - just that he was tired. Bone-tired would be a good description. He figured he just didn’t have the energy to spare anymore. But since they were on such a touchy subject, there was one thing he wanted. “Kid.” He felt the eyes on him, and that was answer enough that he had his full attention. “Can you… I want…” He stumbled over the words, voice hoarse and refusing to cooperate with him. “Say something to me. Like her.”

The air grew tense, and he knew it was a steep request. But Kid was the only one who could fool him. If only for a little while. Kid disguised as her once, so Conan was sure he _knew_ her - could channel that piece of her that he wanted. He heard a nervous exhalation, then a long, long silence. Kid didn’t have to do it, of course. _Please_. It was just a simple, little request. _The last thing he remembered was her insane wailing_. Nothing big. _He didn’t want that to be his last memory of her_. So, if he didn’t want to, that would be fine. “Conan-kun?”

He felt his face pinch up, contorting in an effort to rein in the torrential flood of emotion, because it was so perfectly _her_. The lump from earlier was edging back up his throat, so he struggled to swallow it down. His eyes stayed firmly trained on the hands sitting limply in his lap. “Ran-neechan.” Bittersweet and terrible, wonderful, and cruel all at once. The whisper of her existence, a shadow of her, ephemeral, but real. _Real_. First and foremost on his mind was regret for hiding from her for all that time. He didn’t want to face her as Conan, he wanted to face her as himself. “Ran.”

He had to say it. Shoulders slumping, he could feel more trembles coursing up and down his back. Vicarious or not, he _had_ to say it. “I’m sorry I never told you this earlier. I made you cry so many times, made you feel alone, made you suffer, but I was always there. I never once left your side. Even though my name is different, even though I look like a kid right now, I was always there watching over you. I wish I could have - but to keep you safe I had to -” At this, he choked. “It’s me, Shin’ichi. Kudou Shin’ichi. Please believe me.”

The inhale of surprise was expected. He heard a swallow, and some kind of strangled sound. It was a little incongruous, but he barely had time to think on it, because her voice came out again. “S-Shin’ichi?” That shakiness was also expected, because he figured she must have always known on some level who he really was.

He curled into himself, faintly feeling the top of his head bump into a warm chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, _so sorry_.” There was a whole litany of things he wanted to apologize for, from the most mundane to the most significant. He reached up, fisting his hands in the folds of fabric there. “Please forgive me.”

There was another pause there. “It’s not your fault, so it’s okay.” A beat. “Really, it’s not… your fault.” And the voice cracked, just slightly.

Conan closed his eyes. She always had a temper, but when it really mattered, there was no limit to her kindness. Of course she would forgive him when he was in so much pain. That’s just how she was. “Goodbye, Ran.” He carefully pictured her face, warm and comforting. The quirk of her eyebrows when she was agitated, the spark behind an admonishment playing on her lips. Smoothed out in unchecked happiness, when he managed to give her a pleasant surprise. The way her eyes lit up when he called her, and the shy dusting of pink on her cheeks. The final look he never got to see on her face when he finally managed to say - “I love you.” He whispered the last in a nearly inaudible whimper.

The swallow was louder that time. One hand crawled up, blindly clamping over Kid’s mouth before he got any ideas about how to respond. He already knew, because she had indirectly told him, and that just had to be enough. That was one thing he wanted to remain true and genuine.

After a moment, he let both hands fall back down to his lap. He still felt a thousand different kinds of miserable, but somehow he could at least reasonably function. For now, anyway. He needed to stay upright for Ayumi, Haibara, and Hakase. No need to break down into a whimpering mess in front of _Them_. That could wait until he was back at the temporary shelter, behind locked doors, and well-hidden. Kid would probably be fine, but - _well_. As Kid had said, these were hardly normal circumstances. The letter of the law was kind of irrelevant at that point. It’s why he dared to come outside and chase after him in the first place.

Kid’s chest shifted above his head, and he could sense the tension in his frame. “It’s really not your fault,” he breathed. This time, Conan tensed, uncomfortable with the rawness in that concession. His eyes cracked open a sliver, staring down at the tangle of legs in his line of sight. Kid was the illustrious, cocky thief, smug as silk, with an impenetrable mask. That sounded too real for comfort, despite intentions. “It’s Pandora. If I had been faster, better, if I had just -” The words cut themselves off in a smothered whine. Definitely too real.

Conan leaned back at that, searching out Kid’s face. “Pandora?” Even to himself, his voice sounded dull and flat. Kid visibly winced and turned his head, features twisted into a tight grimace. It looked so wrong.

“The Pandora gem, also known as the Bloody Blight, the Cursed Crystal, and the Undying Paragon. Said to offer immortality when you drink the tears it sheds in the light of the full moon. It does, though it is more curse than blessing, particularly when its owner is ignorant of the magical arts as a certain snake seems to be. Any mage worth their name knows of it. It is a legendary gem.”

Both snapped their head up to attention, glancing at the red spark Conan remembered chasing earlier hovering to the side. The light fizzled, exploding into shimmering dust and coalescing into a ghostly figure of a young woman dressed in… well, dressed in not very much. Conan heard Kid hiss air in through his teeth to his side, but refused to look in case she disappeared again. He felt like he was looking at a spirit, able to make out the wall behind and _through_ her. She was staring right at him with a very strange, assessing look on her face. Her gaze finally shifted over to Kid, and she seemed to soften. “I did not know where it was, so I wish you would not look at me that way.”

The sigh was more tired and strained than he was expecting. “… Ojou-san. You look well.”

“Who…?” Conan was confused. “Is that a ghost?” Leaning closer to Kid, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. Yesterday he would have laughed at the notion of ghosts, but the world had turned upside down since then.

Kid snorted out a humorless chuckle. “Hardly. She’s just a nosy witch.” She looked mildly hurt at his words, but drew herself back up in the same breath. To be honest, Conan was surprised. Wasn’t Kid normally infuriatingly flirtatious with everyone? He wasn’t being rude, per se, but he didn’t seem too fond of her, either.

“Your little bluebird is safe inside my cage. You were looking, were you not? Due to the nature of my shield, neither of us are able to leave, but I assure you things are safer here than anywhere else.” Kid’s hitched breath at that must have meant whoever the “bluebird” was must have been very important. Conan chanced a glance, and saw pained relief on his face. Seeing so many open emotions on his face was still new and strange, though. Was this how he was when he wasn’t Kid? His attention switched back to the red ghost. She seemed concerned, and almost apologetic. “I am sorry I could not protect more of those dear to you. I did try to warn you and Hakuba-kun as well, to poor effect.”

Another hitched breath, but infinitely less relieved. Choked, and Conan knew what that probably meant. He leaned a bit forward to draw her attention. “Do you mean Hakuba Saguru?”

She leaned back by the same degree, and sent guarded eyes his way. “That is correct. He was as insistent as ever to attend this evening’s heist.”

“Heist?” That explained at least a little bit. If Kid had been in the middle of the heist when things went to hell, then it had to be bad. Hakuba, Nakamori-keibu, the rest of the Kid Task Force. They might have been on opposite sides of the law, but he knew Kid never wanted to see anyone get hurt, particularly those wholly dedicated to him.

“His interference at the heist was the key component that allowed Pandora to be snatched away and activated before Kid could obtain and destroy it. Even Lucifer is upset at this turn of events.” She spoke offhand to the side. “Says he will miss not having as many new guests coming to his home.”

Kid cut into the conversation then. “If there is anything you know, any way to reverse this, to change things to normal, how they were before, I will -” Conan glanced over, watching as wave after wave of turmoil crossed his features. “I will give you what you want.” Conan did not know much about the supernatural, but he certainly hoped Kid wasn’t offering up his life, or his soul, or something equally dire. He was one of the last bits of normalcy left for him.

She seemed surprised at his words, before settling into something like anguishing discontent. Silence then overcame them, and she merely looked at Kid, the corners of her mouth turned down in disapproval. “Immortality and cheating death, these are things which must never be tampered with. The dead must stay dead so the rest of us can continue living. I cannot turn back time, or erase what has happened. What you are asking, I cannot do.”

In the corner of his eye, he saw Kid fold into himself, curled forward and looking down to the ground. He looked so _defeated_. “Even if you manage to destroy Pandora now, it will be a futile effort. What is done cannot be undone. The undying curse has already been unleashed, and those of us left must struggle to avoid it. It will not take long for it to spread outside of Tokyo to afflict the remainder of the country. Japan is now an isolated hell. The rest of the world will cut off transportation and never set foot here again. Until the last of the undying flesh has rotted away, and there are nothing left but bones, we will be known as a forbidden island. We are essentially stranded.”

Her eyes were then on him, and Conan tried to meet her with a matching look, but he lacked the energy for it. Instead, it felt like she was drilling holes in his head. The world beneath his feet felt like it was crumbling away, because in light of the realization that at least _some_ magic in the world was real, for the slightest moment, just the faintest bit, he had the inkling of a hope that maybe - just maybe - he could see Ran again. It was no less crushing the second time around to realize that he couldn’t. Her prediction for their dire future was just another blow. “That is not to say nothing can be done to avoid this fate, however. Just not by me. In this case, it is a blessing Japan is an island nation, if nothing else, for guaranteed quarantine measures. This is not unlike containing an epidemic.”

Conan felt the stirrings of a half-formed realization dawning on him. “Haibara,” he whispered. Her expression was unreadable, so he leaned forward again, hoping to decipher it. She leaned back as if to stay away, but he ignored it to press his point. “I know a scientist. Do you think she might be able to find a cure for this? _Can_ it be cured?”

At this, she raised up a hand and pointed at the general vicinity of his left arm. Confused, he let his eyes trail down to look. His whole body still ached and burned from soreness and lack of real rest, but he was still not sure what she was pointing at. He glanced back up at her, a suspicious and questioning expression plain on his face. “The answer is there. You were bitten, were you not?” Kid sucked in a quick breath, and he saw his head whip around at the same time from the corner of his eye. The blood drained from Conan’s face as he realized her implication. He felt, more than actually saw, Kid start to edge away.

“Am I -?” He looked back down at his arm, peeling the concealing layer of his shirt away from the angry, red teeth marks decorating a spot just above the inside of his elbow. The skin around it looked grey, and blackened, spidery webs of veins and arteries radiated out, only to disappear deeper below. It resembled gangrene in a way. Swallowing hard, he gingerly poked around it, far too morbidly curious to register the pain. That’s right. Ran bit him. Conan lifted his gaze back to her, terrified. “Am I - I’m going to be -”

“No.” Despite the resolution in her voice, he was not convinced. “If you were going to, you would have already.” Okay, that made sense, but still - Her eyes narrowed into slits. “You are no normal child. Whatever it is that has _changed_ you is resistant to further changing.”

Conan slumped, not quite sure how to take that bit of information. “Changed… You mean - But the apotoxin formula is deadly. It’s a complete fluke that Haibara and I are even _alive_. That isn’t a cure, it’s a death sentence! And who’s to say this Pandora thing won’t just - after -” He flailed his hands about ineffectually, hoping to explain everything wrong that had happened that night with gestures alone. His jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly, and his tongue felt thick and heavy, still tingling from the dregs of stomach acid. Unable to find the right words, he finished off lamely. “Make things worse.”

“If that were the case, I’m sure it would already have happened to those we know to already be… gone.” Conan turned to see Kid giving him a despondent look that spoke volumes. It might have been a smile, but lacked anything like humor or amusement. It certainly wasn’t encouraging, especially since he was still keeping a discreet distance.

“He is correct. Pandora’s curse only exercises its will over the living, despite the manifestation and the consequences. All I can surmise at this point from what you’ve said is that for some reason, Pandora either thinks you are already dead, or perhaps already cursed. Those are the only reasons I can conceive of for why it has not run due course.”

“Already dead? Cursed?” A headache was coming on, so he rubbed at his temple and squeezed his eyes shut. This mumbo jumbo talk was beginning to get out of hand. Where the hell did the rigid, scientific world disappear to? His chuckle felt dry in his throat. A nice, cold drink of water sounded fantastic at the moment.

He heard her sigh, and he wanted to do the same. Why was she sighing, anyway; he was the one with bite marks. She wasn’t even corporeal, as far as he knew. Kid shifted next to him, clearly uneasy. “Tantei-kun, that ‘apotoxin’ you mentioned, is that what shrunk you?”

“Ah. Haibara doesn’t have her original research notes, and doesn’t seem too keen on continuing its development, aside from looking for a cure, and I agree with her. Well, I did.” His brow furrowed, the fleeting vision of Ran dancing in his head. “No, I still do, just - Becoming a teenager again…” It was his turn to sigh. Somehow, the Black Organization seemed so insignificant compared to the current crisis.

“No wonder you seem so peculiar. You truly are no ordinary child. You are no child at all.” He glanced at her with tired eyes. The mild thrum of danger still echoed inside, insisting he hide his identity, but if she was an acquaintance of Kid’s, she couldn’t be all bad, right? Kid didn’t seem hostile in any case, and he trusted Kid. His chin dropped in a half nod, and he let his gaze drop to the floor. “What do you know of this ‘apotoxin’?”

Conan’s lips turned down. “It’s a poison made that leaves no traces behind, so it’s like a stealth weapon. Haibara is the one who developed it on orders from her superiors in an underground criminal organization. Well, more precisely, she inherited the job from her parents. She rebelled for personal reasons, and used it on herself before she ran away. We don’t know why exactly it shrunk us instead of killing us.” One hand lifted to his chin, trying to recall anything unusual he could. There was that one thing, but it sounded ridiculous at the time. It fit perfectly at the moment, in a backwards kind of way.

“Against the stream of time. … both of God and the Devil. … raise the dead against the stream of time,” he mumbled under his breath. After a moment, he scrunched his face up, because that option was not one he really wanted to explore. “Both Haibara and Vermouth said something along those lines. But when it comes to those guys, she is the only one who might be able to get at Haibara’s original notes. Vermouth seems indebted to me for saving her life a while back, so she might be open to negotiation. If she is still around. She probably won’t be forthcoming with information, but it’s the only thing I can think of. I have no idea where to even begin looking for her, though.”

The air seemed to drop several degrees. “Vermouth? You know Vermouth?” The sassy smooth lilt of her voice was replaced by something brittle and carefully neutral.

Conan looked back at her, eyes narrowed into surprised suspicion. Once more he took an assessing look at her appearance. He definitely did not recognize her, though what little she wore _was_ black. “How do you know her?” His own tone mimicked hers, equally neutral.

The frown she gave him was particularly deep. “She’s a witch.” This startled him enough to derail his wariness for several moments, as the more curious bits and pieces of what he knew about Vermouth fell into place. How she just _knew_ things, how she still seemed to look so young, despite how old she must be, how she managed to escape when Conan challenged her by drugging them both, how she escaped a tight FBI net with a serious bullet wound in New York, even why it felt like she was just toying with him when he knew she could have exposed his identity at any moment. Conan blankly blinked. Her own eyes were narrow and glaring. “I have not seen her in a very long time, though it does not surprise me to hear about her, now. She was always preoccupied with immortality and eternal youth, and has obsessively tried to find a way to obtain it. She is an incredibly vain woman.”

Kid snorted softly, and turned his head away from her scowl. He feverishly tried to piece things together. “That makes no sense. If she was interested in that, why the apotoxin? It’s meant to be the perfect poison, and from what I’ve heard, many resources were used for the project. Sure, she seems intent on killing Haibara now, but why develop it to begin with if that’s not what she’s after? And if she wanted immortality, why not just go straight for this Pandora gem?”

“She said she has already, in the past. The key flaw in Pandora is that while it offers immortality, it does not offer eternal youth.” Her eyes scanned down his body in an assessing look of her own. “Are you certain this ‘apotoxin’ is really supposed to be a poison? Judging by her interest in it, and from your appearance, it seems far more likely she is looking for a means to maintain youth.”

He shuddered under her gaze, completely uncomfortable. “That still doesn’t explain why I’m still - I’m not… Despite being bitten.” Fingers snuck up to rub at his temple again. How _eloquent_. “And if that was her goal for the apotoxin, why try and kill the scientist who created it before being perfected?”

“Magic and science are usually incompatible. Vermouth is aware of this, as well. Pandora’s power was repelled, which means the source must be the same. I theorize this apotoxin of yours is a derivative of Pandora itself. It would explain why you reek of death, and why I sense something very alike to Pandora in you.”

Kid butted in with a cutting, accusatory tone. “I thought you said you did not know where Pandora was.”

“I did not; not until it was activated. The power surge it gave off still burns.” She looked at Kid as if she had swallowed something particularly sour. “I doubt I will ever forget how it felt. I sent my spirit out looking, and came across him. I was quite surprised.” Her head tilted slightly in Conan’s direction. A disgruntled murmur was her only reply.

“If… If apotoxin is a derivative of Pandora, does that mean I’m immortal? Isn’t that just the same as getting bitten, only without the insane part? Isn’t that exactly what Vermouth is after?” A new stirring of panic was rising in his gut. He didn’t want that. Immortality was definitely a curse. Living to watch everyone else die around you, not to mention the uncertainty of whether or not he would also be locked into rotting flesh towards the end, those alone would give him the insanity the original curse would have given him. Being stuck as an eternal child was no better, however. His nails dug painfully into his arm. _Already cursed_. Her earlier words made much more sense now.

She stared at him, head still slightly tilted. “No, I do not think so. The Pandora curse on your arm was rejected, if you recall. It is imperfect, and moreover, it takes a lot of magical energy to grant immortality. Even Pandora requires the light of the full moon. She is likely trying to create something to work in tandem with it. It would also explain why it acts as a poison more often than not. If she has distilled Pandora’s essence, she may be searching to separate and remix its properties to suit her needs. Without focus, components are usually deadly. Nightshade is one common example you may know of.”

Conan frowned. “Why not just take the apotoxin and be done with it then? If she’s already immortal using Pandora like you say, it’s not like poison will do much to her. I know from experience that she is pretty much unaffected by sedatives. Take it enough times, and it’s bound to work. It worked on me and Haibara, so maybe it will eventually work on Vermouth, too. If it works for her, then she wouldn’t need Haibara anymore, even if it isn’t perfect.”

“I said this before - science and magic are usually incompatible. If she took an imperfect formula, it would probably truly kill her. Alchemy is an exacting and demanding process. If done incorrectly, the consequences are typically fatal or disabling. Seems to me that your shrunken condition is an unreliable effect, otherwise there would be dead victims inexplicably younger than they should be. Something as unusual as that would be all over the news and magical community.” She raised up one hand and propped it idly on her hip, nose lifted slightly in the air. “This is why I have no interest in science. Magic alone is much more reliable.”

“This still does not explain why Haibara is - was - being targeted. Wouldn’t Vermouth want her to _continue_ the research to completion?”

“The reason may be in your current condition. Pandora was completely rejected. Nullified.” She was trying to convey the gravity of her words in her stare. “Don’t you see? Something like that is _dangerous_ for her. It’s the one thing which can ultimately bypass Pandora’s power and kill her.”

Leaning back on his haunches, Conan let out a slow, quiet sigh. “This only helps Haibara and I. It doesn’t change the fact that the apotoxin is still a poison for everyone else.”

“Tantei-kun.” Hearing Kid’s voice after so long drew his attention. It seemed strange he was being so quiet throughout everything. “You said she did not have her original notes, correct?”

Conan nodded. “They might have already been destroyed as soon as she ran away. If not, I have no idea where to begin looking for them, and I’m not sure Haibara would know either. Seems like asking Vermouth is also out of the question. Haibara’s been trying hard to formulate a cure for us from scratch, but to add on the goal of making it non-lethal to everyone else, too? On top of that, I don’t even know if it’s possible to try and make it so it doesn’t shrink anyone else, but I suppose that is something we could all live with. The main problem would be the kids ten years old and younger…” He trailed off, with a thoughtful frown. When he was first poisoned, he de-aged by about ten years, so he wasn’t quite sure what the implications would be for those who did not have ten years to spare.

“Do you think she could work as well with Pandora instead? If she has the source to work with, it should be helpful, I imagine. You mentioned a lab, so I presume she is already hoping to formulate a cure, anyway.” He stared at Kid, noticing how the dark circles of stress under his eyes had faded, and something resembling resolution and hope glimmered there. Conan curled one hand against his belly, trying to calm the storm of nerves that wanted to pop up and aggravate his ebbing nausea. He couldn’t be optimistic now. It was a setup for even more disappointment. The problem was that Kid’s mood was irritatingly contagious.

His words came out slowly, unsure. “Perhaps.” Caution suddenly morphed into alarm. “Don’t tell me you plan on going out to get Pandora. What the hell, Kid!” He shot up to his feet. “If you do that, you’ll turn into one of Them, too!”

“I can help you find it, now that its magical signature is broadcasting loud and clear.” Blatantly ignoring the scowl he sent at her, she raised her eyebrows at Kid.

“I suppose I should be thanking you for your assistance.”

She smiled suggestively, one hand returning to rest at her hip. “I refuse to get _too_ close, though. The power Pandora is giving out still burns.”

“Damn it, Kid, you stubborn ass!” Conan ground his teeth together in frustration. His chest made a short thud as he smacked a palm against it. “I’m the one who is immune here, it should be me who does this.”

“He does have a point,” she purred.

Kid turned to look his way. “You couldn’t steal a pacifier from a baby with those clumsy hands of yours. Besides, you don’t know Snake like I do. He is dangerous, and even if you are immune to Pandora, you aren’t immune to injury.” A loud hiss tore through his teeth when Kid gripped his arm above his wound and squeezed. _Hard_. “You should leave thieving to the professionals.”

“He has a point, as well.” Conan was beginning to understand, just a bit, why Kid wasn’t too fond of her. She was insufferably flippant at times. He wrenched his arm free and glared daggers at Kid.

“Neither are you, last I checked, ba’aro. I’m used to dealing with criminals and murderers. This Snake guy won’t even know what’s coming.” Kid merely returned his challenge with an equally stubborn glare.

“This guy shoots to kill. You have no idea how many times he’s already shot me.”

“It’s not like I’ve never been shot before!”

“It’ll take a whole lot more than just a little soccer ball to take him down.”

“Better than your little parlor tricks - those won’t do a thing. You’ve never actually _had_ to take anyone down before.”

“I’ve managed against him before. This guy is dangerous!”

“That is _exactly_ why you should -” He screwed his eyes shut, and gritted his teeth in an effort to rein in his temper. “Look, all you do is run away. Leave dealing with criminals to a professional,” Conan sniped.

A loud, exasperated sigh broke their standoff. “Boys, as endearing as your care and concern for the other is, the solution is clear as day.” He cocked his head towards her, giving the dirtiest scowl he could conjure. “Just go together.”

“Akako, the guy is a trouble magnet - nearly every single one of my heists that he shows up at there is some dead body somewhere. He’ll just get in the way like he always does. Even Hakuba -” Kid cut himself off in a strange little gurgle. Conan took a half beat to process Kid’s objection, because the witch now had a name to match her face. _Akako_. Red to offset the white. It seemed too perfectly appropriate. Everything that night was defined by those two colors.

More importantly though, was the suggestion she had just made. “Fine.” Akako looked far too pleased at his acquiescence, so much so that he almost decided to reconsider. Instead, he shifted his attention to Kid, whose mouth hung open in surprise. His jaw clicked shut, and he frowned, eyes narrowed in discontent. “Nothing is going to change my mind about going, and it seems like nothing will change yours. At the very least, if I can keep an eye on you so you don’t do something ridiculously stupid, then it will have to do.”

Kid drew back in something like indignation. “You really shouldn’t use other people’s words.”

Conan merely snorted, and looked back to Akako. “I’d really rather get this done and over with as quickly as possible. The sooner the better.”

She turned her head, as if looking out a window that wasn’t there. “I agree. After all, the moon won’t stay full forever, and I dare say that might be vital.” Her eyes focused back on him, and with a coy smile, she shimmered and wavered, fading back into the crimson butterfly from earlier. “Do try and keep up.” With a laugh, she buzzed by and through the door.

Kid was on his feet in a heartbeat, and both bolted for the door. “Damn it, Akako!” The door scraped open, and she was hovering there patiently. Conan wanted to curse, too. His knee was hating on him since he’d jammed it, and twisting to a flat run was something he was sorely regretting.

Akako flickered, and he could just imagine the smile on her face. “Don’t worry boys, I’ll wait for you.” Yea, he was _really_ beginning to understand why Kid wasn’t fond of her, now. Scowling, he stepped into the hallway.

“Let’s just go,” he grumbled.

Kid sighed through his nose, bypassing her completely, and making his way towards the stairs. Conan followed him mutely, resigning himself to an unpleasant trip. Things were getting serious. He had to focus.

On the upside, it was completely quiet. His nerves surged back up into full alert once they hit the outside air, and he found himself hovering more closely to Kid’s side. It was an unspoken agreement that he would keep an eye on the right, while Kid would watch the left. Conan knew they were beginning to get closer, when Akako started to flicker in and out like some kind of dying light bulb. They finally paused outside a corner convenience store.

He blinked at her, a mild sense of worry coming over him despite himself. Her voice sounded slightly strained. “This is as far as I will go. Go straight ahead on this street for another mile or so, and Pandora will be there.”

Kid tilted his head down, murmuring a soft thanks. Her light sputtered out after that in a less spectacular fizzle than he was expecting. Maybe it really did burn as much as she let on.

Conan turned his attention ahead, mind racing. He had the basic framework of a plan, which he already shared with Kid in bits and pieces on the way. All that was left at that point was to throw himself out there as the decoy. Breathing in deeply, he let it seep out slowly, and locked eyes with Kid. He handed over the things Kid would need before pitching in one last bit. “I’m only giving you five minutes. Be careful and remember, keep your distance.” Conan knew Kid was terrible at doing what he was told, but sincerely hoped he would listen to reason, just this once.

With only a curt nod as a response, he clenched his jaw, and looked back ahead. The flapping of fabric was the only indication he got that Kid had left. It was time to do a little thieving.

Snake sneered at him as he approached. Conan wasn’t quite sure how much he knew about him, if he even knew of his existence, or if he was already aware of his abilities, so he had to just try and play up the cute, little kid act, and hope it worked. Not that he honestly expected a hardened, immortally-cursed criminal to really care, but he could at least try and catch him by surprise. So with that thought, he widened his eyes, and looked at Snake with almost genuine terror, as if just noticing he were there for the first time.

“Hello, boy. I’ve seen you at Kid’s heists before. Looking for him?” Conan froze, and almost stumbled over his own feet. Kid hadn’t said the guy was still fully _cognizant!_ He gritted his teeth, and furtively double-checked for all the best escape routes and places to hide. The flash of something red caught his eye, but the flicker of steel captured his attention. He figured Snake would be armed, based on Kid’s account, but again - _fully cognizant_. This made things difficult in a totally different way. “See, I’m looking for him, too. Isn’t that a coincidence?”

Before he could provoke him into further action, he bolted, and dove behind the nearest mailbox. The metallic clang and reverberating jolt at his back told him Snake had tried to shoot him anyway. Conan cursed under his breath, and tuned his ears for footsteps. Snake knew he wasn’t cursed, now. The question then would be what Snake decided to do with him.

Conan could nearly hear the thoughts passing through his brain. Should he riddle his body with bullets? Should he attempt to foist Pandora’s curse on him, and then riddle his body with bullets? Should he riddle his body with bullets, curse him before he died, and then riddle his body with even more bullets? Conan’s eyes flickered up to the fire escape ladder. Best case scenario - Snake tried to curse him, and left him to his own devices. Better yet, if he took the tag-team bait. He would be distracted by that. The only advantage he had was that Snake had no idea he was immune.

The silent sway of Kid’s cape finally came around the bend, and he let out a soft sigh. The bastard was late. He darted from behind the mailbox, and dove for the cover of a parked car. Snake hummed appreciatively. “I think I can see now why you’ve managed to avoid Pandora up until now. Being quick won’t save you, though.” His steps were heavy, as if he wasn’t even bothering to be stealthy.

White passed in his peripheral, and he craned his neck around to see. His head popped back out sight just in time to avoid a bullet between the eyes. He cursed under his breath again, more loudly this time. A surprised yelp and clatter was his cue, so he darted from behind the car, racing towards Snake. The air hissed as more of Kid’s cards whizzed by, embedding themselves into Snake’s arm. His knuckles scraped the asphalt as he strained to reach the gun still clattering away.

Snake let out an outraged roar, and kicked out a leg. Conan dove and rolled, snatching the gun and earning a particularly painful scrape to his previously injured knee in the process. Another roll, and he struggled to his feet, intent on running. He wouldn’t be surprised if he wouldn’t be able to walk the next few days from all the abuse. Conan ran, ignoring the strange, floating sensation in his knee, and hoping Kid knew well enough to keep his distance. Disarming him was just the first step.

The gun was disposed of in another mailbox. He’d considered using it for a brief moment, but ultimately decided against it. If they could get the apotoxin to work, they didn’t want Snake to die of injuries. Kid’s card gun would have to do. His escape came to a halt when he nearly literally ran _into_ someone. He took one look at the bloody, tattered clothes and turned tail, running with a bit more panic than before. The shocked keening at his back came almost like an afterthought. “Damn it -!”

Snake’s head whipped around, and though he was clearly enraged, he seemed surprised to see him again. His lips curled into an unpleasant smile, his hand dropping the bloodied cards to the ground. Conan grimaced, edging to the side, and hoping to draw Snake away. He knew Kid had to have heard the wailing, which meant more trouble would be coming soon. “Kid, change of plans, don’t you dare miss!” At that, he charged.

Vaulting up the bumper of one car, he raced over the hood, and bodily launched himself at a very startled Snake. The fedora went tumbling, and sunglasses cracked on the pavement, but Snake managed to stay upright despite a tangled mess of squirming and persistent child latching onto him. Conan fumbled at Snake’s trench coat, briefly feeling the smooth planes of a gem before losing it again when Snake yanked his arm away. “You little snitch -!”

His body jerked to the side, and he was nearly yanked right off. He clenched his legs, hanging on for everything he was worth. Fingers scrambled to hang onto the lapels, and then again, he felt it. Teeth sank into his arm at that point, and Conan shrieked at the lancing pain. Same arm, slightly different spot, but damn that _hurt!_

Conan squeezed his eyes tightly, and wrenched his other arm up and out, causing the world to bleed red. He could feel something freezing cold and viscous dripping down his fingers, before his arm jolted, the gem violently snapping out of his hand. Momentarily blinded, Snake let him go, and Conan fell to the ground in a crumple. His hand felt stiff, it shook, and it was absolutely _freezing_. On the other hand, his other arm still burned something fierce where Snake had bitten him, so he could do little more than roll around in a painful little ball.

More whizzing cards tore through the air, and Snake yelped again, feet scraping against the ground noisily as he stumbled to the ground. Conan cracked his eyes open, and forced himself to a crouch. The other one would be there any second, so he had to - He looked around, trying to gauge his position. Spots still danced in his eyes, but at least he knew the hulking shape right next to him was Snake. He had to run. Eyes scanned the area again, trying to see where the gem had been knocked off to.

Cards flew in front of his face again, and he cursed. Scooting aside, he hobbled behind a car to hide. A sizzling pop caught his attention in the distance, and judging by the furious wailing that was receding in volume, Kid had managed to send the stranger on a wild goose chase. He wanted to grunt in pain, so he was forced to bite his lip. Snake’s vision should be recovering right about then, so he leaned down to peer under the car. As expected, he could see him crawling to his feet. His cursing put Nakamori-keibu to shame, too. Most interesting though, was the moist glimmer just out of reach under the body of the car.

Damn his short arms.

Conan pulled himself back up, and breathed lightly, frozen hand curled close to his chest. It was beginning to warm a bit, but he could see livid streaks where the liquid had trailed down his skin. He had no idea who in their right mind thought it would be smart to _drink_ something like that. Idly, he rubbed it against his shirt. Maybe it was just another side effect of interacting with the apotoxin. He’d have to warn Haibara about that. Later.

Right then he had to figure out how he was going to reach the gem before Snake realized where it disappeared to. Kid’s sniping wouldn’t be able to last much longer. Moreover, Snake was likely under the impression Conan was now one of _Them_. It would throw him for a moment, but the surprise would not last long. They needed to secure Snake as soon as possible.

Knees protesting, he prowled a few cars down, and dug out his bowtie. Hopefully this part would actually _go as planned_. Twirling the knobs to the correct setting, he peered under the car again and spoke. “It wasn’t nice to bite me, oji-san. It kind of hurts.” Snake whirled around, searching for him.

“Brat, you drank it, didn’t you?” Snake’s voice was gravelly and coarse, unpleasant on the ears. He took a few steps forward, drawing out a small grin from Conan.

“Drank it? You mean that liquid stuff?” He pretended to muse over that for a bit. “I’ve got it all over my fingers, but that kind of hurts, too. Does it taste good?”

His steps faltered a bit, and he watched Snake roll to the balls of his feet. He rolled his eyes because it just looked _ridiculous_. From what he’d seen of the man so far, Snake and stealth couldn’t possibly coexist. “A smart kid like you should know better than to stick things in their mouth.”

The pout effectively carried in his voice. “ _You’re_ the one who bit me, oji-san!” Conan crept along the cars, and finally slipped into the alleyway. Slipping behind a pile of trash, he checked up above. White fingers signaled at him, and his grin widened. Looking back down, he warily watched Snake try and be sneaky.

“You know what, you’re right, I did.” Snake stepped into the alley, a black shadow against shadow. “Game’s up, Kid, you can’t fool me. That brat is a goner by now. You really shouldn’t mess with an immortal, because you’ll -”

Another few steps, and Conan’s grin nearly turned feral. That bastard, how dare he underestimate him. Shifting away from the wall, he walked forward. The moonlight didn’t illuminate much between the buildings, but it was enough. Snake abruptly stopped, staring at Conan in shocked confusion. Bringing up his most sickeningly sweet smile, he batted wide eyes at Snake at the same time he clicked the button of his suspenders. “Bye bye, Snake-san.”

One of his shoes went flying.

Conan watched in vindictive humor as Snake flailed and shouted obscenities. Kid hopped off the fire escape to the ground next to him. “Are you certain those will hold him? Seems to me, he could just bite through them.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. Conan had to hand it to Kid, he was a master at setting up traps. “Not going to happen. Those are made of a special material - not even a knife can cut through. So unless he has a blowtorch hidden up his sleeve, there is no way he can get free.” Snake swung slightly above their heads, each of his struggles only tightening the trap. “Of course, if he is _truly_ desperate, he can try chewing through his arms and legs. He’s immortal, so that shouldn’t phase him. Right, Snake-san? I’m sure if you’re loud enough, your other cursed buddies will keep you company, too.”

Snake was seething. “How the fuck, you little brat. You _did_ drink it, didn’t you?”

“Not quite.” He smiled that same disarming grin. “I’ll just tell you that Pandora isn’t nearly as perfect as you think it is. I’ll let you think on that for a while.”

Turning, he skittered to the edge of the alley and peered around the corner. He was under no delusion that the scuffle hadn’t drawn attention. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Kid just staring up at Snake with a somber expression. Whatever it was he was saying was too soft for him to hear, but Snake was still glaring daggers. Finally, he turned to follow Conan. He didn’t fail to notice Kid pocketing his card gun, but made no mention of it. Kid probably had his own history with Snake that he didn’t feel like talking about, and Conan had a hunch it had something to do with the Kid from several years ago. Something heavy and personal was sitting on his shoulders. He pursed his lips, and acted like he hadn’t seen anything.

“He’ll be fine there for now - both from himself and anyone else. We’ll come check up on him or move him when we have to. And once Haibara has the apotoxin ready…” He looked up, hoping to glean Kid’s mood, though it was nearly impossible with the stone face he was wearing. Conan had his own opinion on how Snake should suffer the consequences of his actions, but he knew that what Kid wanted would probably take precedence. He was fairly certain there was some significant piece of the puzzle Kid wasn’t telling him. He just couldn’t tell what that was. Sighing, he turned his head, deciding to change the subject. “I saw where Pandora went, but I can’t reach it.”

Kid nodded his head. “Under that green car, right? It was hard to see, but I’m pretty sure that’s where it wound up. Think I’ll be able to reach it?” Conan reached an arm out and tugged at Kid’s sleeve, frown plain on his face.

“No. I’ll get it. It’s probably still wet, and,” he trailed off, staring at the car. “I’d rather not chance it. I wasn’t lying when I said the stuff hurt - it felt like my fingers would freeze right off. We don’t know if this won’t soak right through the skin. Alright?”

Kid’s eyes flitted down to Conan’s hand, then he stiffly nodded. He pocketed it, overly conscious of the red reminders, and sauntered to the car. From this side, Pandora was closer, so he could just barely touch it with his fingertips, but he still needed something to pull it closer. Kid handed over one of his metal playing cards, which was a bit surprising, though effective. Conan curled as far under the car as he could, and shoved the jewel into the pocket of his shorts. Shimmying his way out slowly, he gingerly stood, waiting and watching for anything odd or strange to happen. He was almost disappointed when nothing happened at all.

Blue eyes glanced up to look at Kid, who was also warily eyeballing the bulge in his shorts. At least it wasn’t blinding them, leaking, or freezing his balls off. So far, so good. His fingers curled discreetly over the gaping part of his pocket. He let out a shaky sigh, and gave an equally shaky grin at Kid. “I think… I’m good. But we should probably stick to the shadows. Just in case.”

Kid’s lips quirked in something that might have resembled a grin. “Tantei-kun, you are much braver than I.”

This time, making his way across the quiet gaps and shadows leading toward the campus building was less stressful than before, despite running into two small groups. Conan couldn’t quite place if it was because he no longer had the harrowing burden of protecting an innocent and mostly helpless child, or if because things were different with Pandora safely tucked away in his pocket. Maybe it was because he knew he was immune, or perhaps it was because he knew Kid was there. As much as he hated to admit it, Kid was reliable when needed, and was an expert at escaping a situation undetected.

They paused for the briefest moment, taking stock of the area before proceeding inside, and with catlike grace, Kid followed him up the stairs. Conan felt like an elephant by comparison, and directed his irritation at the landing door. He was a bit less subtle with tapping out his arrival into the Detective Boy badge, and tried to will Hakase to hurry.

To his surprise, Hakase _was_ much quicker this time to open the door. Even more surprising was the little bundle of fury incarnate standing next to him. Conan winced and slinked inside, Kid trailing behind him like a white wraith. Her eyes flickered briefly to him, before settling back on Conan with steely agitation. The glare was a heavy weight between his shoulder blades, but to her credit, Haibara waited to say anything until the door was bolted shut and the blockade replaced.

“ _Edogawa-kun_ ,” she hissed. “That was singularly one of the most idiotic, impulsive, foolish, _idiotic_ things you have ever done!”

Conan grimaced, unconsciously moving a bit closer to Kid. He wasn’t about to begin pointing out her redundancy. She didn’t even know what he’d been up to, and he did not feel inclined to enlighten her either. As far as she knew, he just ran outside, grabbed Kid, and came back. Ignoring her admonishments, he plucked the gem from his pocket. He held it out, hoping it would serve as a peace offering. “I have something that should help find a cure.”

Haibara’s expression faltered, gaze wandering over the jewel covering the whole of his palm. She blinked, looked quickly to Kid, then to Hakase, before returning her attention to Conan. Suspicion was plain, and she was clearly not convinced. “If you think that will help Hakase, then fine. But you are not allowed outside again for any reason.” Her eyes narrowed, promising many unpleasant consequences should he disobey. Abruptly, she pointed at Kid, sending him an equal glare. “And _you_. You are also not allowed outside. I don’t give a damn if you’re Kaitou Kid, I will not have you attracting attention. It’s dangerous enough without you coming and going.”

Kid raised his hands up in a submissive gesture, eyebrows hiding near his hairline. “Whatever ojou-san says.” Her glare lingered, driving her point until he let out a soft, nervous chuckle.

He lifted Pandora, offering it for Haibara to take. It fit no better in her palm than his. “Where is Ayumi-chan?”

“Sleeping. She had trouble falling asleep, so I had to sedate her, but she is resting well at the moment.” Hakase motioned towards the center of the building, and Conan nodded. That was for the best.

“This gem is called Pandora. Kid can personally vouch that it’s what has caused this whole mess. You could say it’s the source of the infection.” The jewel reflected a few stray bits of light, as Haibara held it out at arm’s length and looked at it with a pale, uncertain face. He could tell she was wary about holding it, despite her scientific reservations. “Don’t worry, because of the apotoxin, we’re pretty much immune.” Her head whipped up at that, guarded eyes shifting to Kid for the briefest of moments.

Conan turned to Hakase. “Keep that in mind, okay? It’s why I’m the one who was holding onto it.” He watched Kid from the corner of his eye, who seemed to be tactfully staring down the hallway towards the front-facing windows. “It only seems to, ah- _propagate_ under the moonlight, so I’ve been keeping it in my pocket so it stays dormant. But better safe than sorry. Be careful when handling it.”

Hakase adjusted his glasses, trying to peer at Pandora in the low light without getting too close. His frown was deep. “Are you saying there is some kind of photosensitive microorganism growing on that? I’ve never heard of such a thing on gemstones.” Haibara herself still did not look very convinced, which was entirely understandable.

“Not exactly.” He scratched at a cheek nervously. “But we have it on pretty good authority that the apotoxin was derived from that. The apotoxin is a cure.”

“That’s ridiculous! That can’t possibly -”

“Haibara.” She scowled at him, so he sighed. He glanced at Hakase, then back to her, before finally peeling back his sleeve to expose the bite marks on his arm. Both sucked in a gasp, Haibara even taking one step back. “Despite being bitten, nothing has happened to me. Look, I’ve already had this conversation, so I’m pretty sure about it. Apo toxin _works_ , and because of it, I’m immune.” Letting go of his sleeve, he allowed it to slide back down. “But because it’s imperfect, and the research notes and all the samples are missing, it’s useless for anyone else. With the source, can the apotoxin be reformulated? Make it so it’s not so deadly?”

Her gaze wandered over to Kid again. “How do you know this thing is the source of the apotoxin research? Hakase… Hakase said he didn’t know where it came from. A colleague gave him the base material.” And there was the question he was dreading most, because he knew how she would react to the truth.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked off to the side. “Just trust me on this.”

The silence he got in reply was heavy, oppressive, and crackled with angry discontent. Even Hakase audibly shifted in discomfort. It seemed like forever before he finally heard a response. “I expect real answers, when everything is over. Come on, Hakase. You have work to do.”

Conan managed to pull out a real smile at that, but she had already turned and was stalking back to the lab. Hakase shuffled after her, sending an apologetic glance over his shoulder. When they had both disappeared around the corner, his whole body sagged. He let out a long, drawn out sigh, which served to only punctuate his exhaustion.

“Ojou-san is surprisingly frightening.”

He snorted, and turned to make his way to the same windows he had originally spied Kid from. The hallway was wide, so when he squatted against the wall to sit, he could no longer see the ground from his angle. Moonlight still filtered in, causing soft shafts of silver-white to spill across the floor, and Conan let his head fall back to stare up at the night sky. It was no surprise when Kid joined him to his right.

“I think this is the first time I’ve sat down all night.” He heard Kid breath in to give a reply, but cut him off. “Kneeling on the floor of that other building doesn’t count. That was like some bastardized seiza, and much less comfortable. It was definitely… not comfortable.” His fingers curled into the fabric of his shorts, anxiety bubbling up under the surface again and forcing him to shiver. He could feel the dried, crusty remains of blood there from earlier that evening, and the lingering prickling in his fingertips.

The sound of Kid’s cape slithering over the floor held his attention, and when it popped into his line of vision, he finally turned to look. It settled carefully across his knees, and Kid tucked the far edge behind his shoulder before leaning back to huddle under his half of the makeshift blanket. The cape was still cool to the touch, but it settled his nerves somewhat. Conan swallowed, and gripped the cape in his fingers to keep it close.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was thanking him for. The blanket, helping him fight Snake for Pandora, or for just being there. Any one of those could have been a valid reason. Sinking against the wall, he had a feeling he wouldn’t get a chance to relax like this for a while. It was hard enough with adrenaline still pumping through his veins. The whole evening seemed to run on it, so the concept of rest and relaxation alone was a bit farfetched.

“It’s easy to be quiet, but hard to stay still.” Conan blinked. “I’ve trained for it, but it’s still difficult. I’m used to waiting on my own terms.”

“Mm.” He huddled deeper under the cape, and blankly stared into space. “There isn’t much we can do right now, anyway. Haibara will skin us alive if we even think about doing anything aside from planting our butts right here.”

Kid snickered a bit, and nodded in his peripheral. “She seems the type. The present seems somewhat daunting, thanks to her.”

“Let’s talk the future, then. Where do we go from here?” His head rolled to the side, glancing at him from the side. “If, when the apotoxin is all completed, and things are back to normal, I mean. Or before that, too. I guess.”

Kid chuckled again, quietly. “I guess.” His eyes were glued to the black patch of sky outside, but the small humor from his laugh drained completely away from his features. “I plan to disappear. My whole reason for becoming Kaitou Kid was to destroy Pandora, so now that things are how they are, Kid isn’t needed anymore. I don’t think I can go back to my civilian life, either. There is no way I’ll be able to keep Kid a secret, and there is _definitely_ no way I’ll be forgiven for what happened. Maybe I should move out of the country.”

“You can’t go. No, don’t you dare run away, Kid!” Conan grimaced, forcing himself to try and maintain eye contact. “You - what about Akako-san, and that bluebird she mentioned? I don’t know what happened, but the Kid Task Force -”

“Aoko. The bluebird. Her name is Aoko.” It was seriously beginning to upset him how resolutely Kid was avoiding his effort to look him in the eye. “Nakamori Aoko.”

“Nakamori, you mean - Is she related to Nakamori-keibu?”

“He’s dead.” Kid’s knees curled up tighter, pulling the white fabric taut and inadvertently rocking Conan a bit to the side. “I killed her father. She already loathed Kid before, but now she’ll never forgive me. If I ever had any chance to make her understand, it’s gone now.” She sounded important to Kid. Someone precious, someone he cared about deeply, someone like Conan used to know, someone he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life. It hurt.

His voice was small. “But, she’s still alive, right?” Kid’s shoulders hunched up at that.

“Even if she stops hating me one day, I can’t forgive _myself_. I’ve lied to her, I’ve hurt her in the worst way imaginable, and there is no going back to being friends anymore. She needs to mourn, and believe me when I say I know what it’s like. She doesn’t need to see her father’s arch nemesis and murderer. It would be better to remove myself from her life entirely, at least for a long while.”

“I don’t know her, but given time, she might forgive you.” Ran did, after all, even if it was a mirage of Kid’s making. It was based on the real Ran, and Conan had no doubt that was exactly what she would have done. “My whole purpose is to capture criminals, so I have seen all kinds. While you are a pompous bastard, you aren’t a murderer. You did what you had to do.”

“Then how about you? Can you forgive yourself?” Kid’s words felt like a slap, and he had to hold himself back from yelling in Kid’s face. _How dare he - how dare he try and equate -!_

Conan tightly squeezed his eyes shut. No. Lives were equal, no matter who they were, whether it was an important person, or an important person’s father. It all hurt in the end. “To be honest, I hate you. I hate that you have someone you can go back to, even if she will probably hate you forever. I hate that you knew about Pandora, and did not ask anyone for help. I hate that it’s so easy to forgive you, and I hate that I can’t hate you. I can’t forgive myself right now, but I want to have hope there is a chance I can in the future. Don’t -” He tripped over his words, and swallowed. “Don’t leave this kind of thing to me. Alone. Don’t -” _Don’t leave me, too_. Conan had lost so many people that night. Any more, and he wasn’t sure he could manage.

Opening his eyes, he saw Kid bowing his head, the brim of his hat obscuring his face into blackness. The faintest glimmer of light reflecting off his cape illuminated the humorless curl of his lips. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting you’re the same. As me. As her.” Hearing Kaitou Kid say _sorry_ of all things had to be one of the weirder moments in his admittedly bizarre life. He never imagined the word would ever be said, much less directed at him.

“As long as you understand, then fine.” Conan was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation, so he shifted, and returned to staring out the window, refusing to speak any further on the matter.

Both sat there a long while, fatigue and stress finally starting to take its toll. He could feel the shroud of sleep wanting to come and curl over him, despite the cold tile beneath him. His muscles were sore, his arm still stung and throbbed in uneven beats, but Kid’s cape was warm, and his breathing was hypnotic in the silence. He was very nearly asleep, when he heard Kid murmur softly. “Thank you. For wanting me here. Despite everything.”

“Ba’aro. I won’t let you get away.” For someone so brilliant, Kid could be such a moron. It was on that sleep-slurred note that he fell into an exhausted, dreamless slumber.

* * *

With morning came the stench of death. It seeped through the cracks of wall and window, and permeated the air. Outside was even worse, but there wasn’t a damned thing anyone could do about it. Even someone like Conan, who was used to dealing with crime, was hard-pressed to shove down his gag reflex. The best he could do was wrinkle his nose, and rush through the vending machines with Kid as quickly as he could. Life from that point became one of scavengers.

Recreating the apotoxin was simple enough for Haibara, but reformulating it into something non-lethal proved to be the real challenge. Days stretched into weeks, and it was hard to foster the tiny flicker of hope her research gave them. Conan lost track of the number of sleepless nights Haibara spent in the lab. It took a while of her and Hakase collaborating before a prototype was created. It took even longer to test it - everyone agreed Snake should be the guinea pig - and longer still to distribute it.

Finding the survivors in the wake of disaster was also no easy task. People were still shell-shocked, paranoid, and in survivor mode. Desperately hiding. It was a kind of bitter irony that Kid had to struggle to lure people out. The very same people, who practically threw themselves at his feet in the past, accused him from the safety of the shadows of leading them to their deaths. More than once, Conan caught Kid alone afterwards, huddled into himself, and leaned against his back until the tremors faded. He understood the feeling too well, and that was why he demanded for Kid to stay. For Kid’s sake. For his own sake.

As for the victims, most of the ones cursed were given a cure just to put them out of their misery. Many of those afflicted that somehow avoided fatal injury were in dire need of medical attention from gnawed limbs or other wounds. Hospitals were out of the question, and initially, no one qualified to administer treatment wanted to go near them. Several died merely due to neglect. The Pandora curse had been lifted, but it would take a while before things would get anywhere close to normal again. Trust was a shaky thing.

The country was disoriented, scrabbling to pick up the pieces and put them together again. But the important thing was that Pandora had been nullified, and they had survived in the end.

And from there…


End file.
